Do you wear a cross? Do you believe doing so is an integral part of your faith as a practicing Christian? Is this a personal understanding or do you believe that our tradition obliges you to do so? These are only a few of the questions raised by a controversy here in the UK about the “right” of Christians to wear a cross or other religious symbols in the workplace or in public. I am finding that, while I am not a huge fan of the quarters from whence this controversy is being generated and sustained – it is making me ask some useful questions about the nature of symbols, and the relationship these symbols have to our practice and identity as sacramental Christians.

I find it curious that the more ardent conservative media sources are giving this issue the most space. Liberal and moderate media outlets are all but ignoring it. I cannot say as though I entirely understand why this imbalance exists. But it does raise some very interesting questions about how religion, more specifically Christianity, is reported in the media, questions that are for another post. Overall I find that religion reporting, like science reporting is extremely poor in the UK.

Is the debate surrounding visibly wearing crosses about real theology or, is it about fear? I actually think it is about fear, but I say that because of the source of the controversy – it is being backed by the likes of Lord Carey, Bp. Nizir-Ali, and the Christian Legal Centre, all proponents of the idea that “Christianophobia” exists in Britain today. That being a practicing Christian is increasingly under threat by Europe, radical Secularists, and Muslims. Their argument boils down to wearing a cross is a religious duty, a defence of Christianity against these forces aggressively marginalising the faith in contemporary British society. That this is grounded in reactionary fear rather than sound theology is further evidenced by the arguments individuals are setting forth in reports, and social media in support of openly wearing crosses. The overall content of the argument goes like this: Sikh’s wear turbans, Muslim women wear hijabs, and Christians are being penalised for displaying the cross. More than one commentor has written that while they did not previously wear a cross – they will now do so. Others have stated that while in the past they have worn their crosses discretely – now they will do so openly. Fifty years ago in Western Europe there was no compelling “need” to wear a cross openly – the running assumption was that the majority were practicing Christians. Now, in Britain at least, that assumption is being challenged – or it is felt that it is being challenged by very visible “alien” religions, the “New Atheists” and bizarrely, Brussels. This is not an argument grounded in solid theology, praxis, or faith – this is an argument grounded in fear, and reaction.

Back in 2006 we saw a similar controversy over the veil in the UK. At the time Tony Blair is reported as saying that the veil is a “mark of separation”. The controversy, it seems to me, is not really about defending our right to practice our faith (though Lord Carey and his band of not so merry men would like you to think that it is), rather it is about doing the very thing that many – conservative and liberal alike – accuse the Muslim community of doing, marking a clear boundary between “us” and “them”, between the “civilised” and the “savage”, the “saved” and the “damned”. This is not sound theology – it is a reaction born of anxiety and prejudice.

For this argument to be effective, however, the symbolism of the cross must be re-claimed from its current status as a fashion accessory, and re-asserted in the mind of popular culture as a religious icon. The history of its journey from icon to accessory is I think closely linked with the emergence of modern media – and I bet it would be a fascinating study to conduct. Think for a moment about the use of image of Buddha, Kali and Lakshmi in restaurants, handbags, and T-shirts: what is the “function” of these religious icons on consumer goods? Advertising for sure, but they have also become, or are increasingly becoming visual elements in our media culture. I’m using these examples first because their appearance on consumer products is more recent – and therefore more thought provoking than that of the cross, which was an established consumer product over 30 years ago. However, in the past ten years it has become fashionable for young people to wear plastic Roman Catholic rosaries – how do they understand this item and its imagery? Is it merely fashion, does it function as an impersonal talisman, or is it somehow devotional? I think I am not too far removed from the “history” to speculate that it is rooted not in faith, but in the culture of central American gang violence – which migrated to American gang culture, and entered the music industry (popular culture) and from there everyone wanted to be seen wearing this accessory because that’s what celebrity singers and rappers do. I’m willing to be proven wrong here – this rundown is purely speculative based on my own observation and guess work. The association between plastic rosary and wearer is not one of the wearer to God, and the mysteries of the faith, but of the wearer to his or her favourite popular celebrity. Here then we see how the cross has truly lost its meaning in the popular mindset. I have on occasion seen individuals wearing a rosary, or crucifix (either as a necklace, earring, or broach) while wearing a T-shirt imprinted with a Hindu God or Goddess. I cannot help but wonder about the symbolism and meaning of these images for the wearer. Do they have any at all – or is it merely a consumer choice of the most interesting and colourful accessories. Regardless of an individual’s interpretation, what is in evidence is how the meaning and value of these religious icons have been altered in a very short period of time. The point is that the cross has been a part of this process. Its meaning is no longer obvious. We cannot assume that because we see someone wearing a cross that that individual is a believing practicing Christian. Indeed I would argue that a quick survey of cross wearers would result in a very low number of believers, but a very high number of people giving other reasons for wearing it. Thus, if the symbolism of the cross no longer has meaning in the popular mindset then how can we expect that to wear it openly makes a statement about our religious belief?

What do you think: is wearing a cross a “requirement” of our faith? If you wear a cross openly and regularly why do you do it?

I like Will Meyer’s observation: “There is one principle that ISM clergy have never heeded well: simplicity of vesture. In the words of Mademoiselle Chanel: “Before you go out, always take something off”. In the ISM, perhaps the more appropriate statement is “The Infant of Prague is to be venerated, not imitated.” Lets all be honest – he is right. One need only make a cursory sweep through Indie websites and blogs to see an entire line up of “Infant of Pragues”. It may at first appear to be a superficial topic, however, there is a worthwhile conversation here. This is not purely about aesthetics – as Will’s post rightly points out it is about context, respecting the dignity of the moment. I also wonder if it is not an opportunity to expand on our understanding of what community is, and what it does.

Clothing is symbolic. If you think I’m joking take a moment and look at a collection of celebrity photographs. Pay close attention to the fashion labels and accessories in the image. Now, go do some people watching – where do you see those labels and accessories? How many market stalls are selling cheap chinese knock-offs? Take a moment and think about the conscious and unconscious “statements” people make, including yourself, about themselves, through the clothes that they choose to wear. Our clothing communicates social status, or aspired to social status, group affiliation, politics, and much more. Often this communication is so unconscious – because of the other choices we have made – that we assume, or take for granted the messages we project, and those that we “read” in others.

The symbolism of clothing in a liturgical setting is intensified because liturgy, by its very nature, is highly symbolic. The shape of the rite, the ritual gestures, even the ritual food, is a stripped down indicator of a larger conversation that we are all having with one another, and with God. When the priest is vested, he or she fulfils a particular role; one that is a step outside the ordinary. That slight shift in appearance can empower individual community members to step outside the ordinary with the celebrant and take in the fullness of the mystery.

Too often in our Indie context vestments become a distraction, rather than a compliment to the ministry and unity of the community. Here is where Will’s observation of the Infant of Prague comes into its own. I have over the years met too many clergy whose prized collection of vestments would put Imelda Marcos’ famed shoe collection to shame. I have seen priests scour the internet, and vintage shops for church chatchky bankrupting themselves (or their community) in the process. There is a sickness, a form of idolatry at work here. Acquiring, and then using more and more liturgical costume – sometimes even changing costumes throughout a liturgy – does not respect the dignity of the mystery. The focus shifts from the Gospel, to the individual celebrant, from we together as one, to “me” the pretty one flouncing about in satin and lace. The purpose of vestments – to shift one’s focus and step outside the mundane, is turned on its head, entrenching the community in the ordinary.

I’m a big fan of make your own. I’m lucky in that I have enough “skill” to get away with it. But if one does not, surely this is an opportunity to tap into existing creative skills within the community, and to cultivate new ones. Doing so is not about aesthetics, or vanity – it can open a door to real ministry, by taking what is learned in the process of that creative act, and shifting its purpose to serve a function outside the boundary of the community. The simple act of coming together to create, for example, a set of vestments, establishes a working bond, a creative skill set, and a sense of pride in being a liturgical community that does more than just celebrate liturgy. The idea of starting within, and then moving beyond with what one has learned, is not without precedent in Christian practice. Indeed it is exactly what the early ascetics and desert Fathers did. They retreated to locations beyond the city walls, achieved a skill in spiritual discipline, and then returned to share that skill with those inside the city – outside the desert. Drawing upon the skills to make beautiful vestments a community could then turn around and make functional items for the poor, the lonely, and the sick – but make them well, and bring some beauty and joy into the other’s world. I have seen more than one “exhibit” created by small groups designed to offer a moment of beauty and reflection for visitors. This is a gift of spirit that cannot be bought on eBay, or “worn” in multiple layers of lace and satin. This is a real community in creative action – doing ministry outside the expected boundaries of “mere” liturgy.

Decrying the decline of “christianity” in Britain has come from various angles over the past year or so. Church attendance is diminishing, its membership ageing. “Unbelief” appears to be growing. Though I would argue that it was always there and only now is it getting better, perhaps more accurate, press. Fifty percent of people living in Britain today describe themselves as being of “no religion”. How many of those are believers (in a real or vague sense) is difficult to ascertain – only that they do not see themselves as a member of a particular church or denomination. Ninety percent of those who are raised not associated with a religious tradition, do not later join one, or identify with one. That last figure, is interesting, but not entirely unexpected. Religious practice is something that you need exposure to to get below the surface of watching a liturgy, reading a few patristic writers, or looking around a darkened medieval church. Christianity in Britain seems to find itself in a situation where it is no longer a force to be reckoned with. Politicians and social and public figures, according to Rowan Williams, see religion as a “problem”, an “eccentricity” practiced by fringe elements and ethnic minorities. This last point should come as no surprise. Consider for a moment what popular media covers when it reports on religious issues: radical fundamentalists, and other “fringe” groups. Sadly, we Indie folk get lumped in with the latter group. We are viewed as a novelty, even though we represent a 200 year old tradition within sacramental Christianity.

Are we getting an accurate picture? Thinking about the possible numbers of Indie OC/IC folk for a moment. I am unaware of any accurate figures detailing the number of OC/IC believers. The last such figure I know of is from the 1920 US census. When the surveys are conducted there is not a space for Indie folk. Many people in our “sub-group” will say that they are “catholic” simply to make things easier, or because there are no other options. By the way – I always pick “other” and then fill in the blank if one is provided. If we had an accurate statistic of our own numbers then we might not be asking – is Christianity declining – because we would be asking a different question: How is Christianity changing, such that we are observing people abandoning large parish buildings in favour of smaller more intimate groups? Why? For starters I think that the Indie movement is larger than we think. When you are only counting church membership in the big-tent denominations I think you’re not getting an accurate picture of the health of the faith.

Is it that Christianity is declining, or is it perhaps more accurate to say that the nature of Christian expression is changing? I have seen quite a few pieces over the past couple of years suggesting that people simply cannot identify “Christianity”. When you consider the statistic I mentioned earlier – that the majority of those not raised in a religious tradition will not then seek to participate in the life of one – it is no surprise that people are ill informed, or wholly ignorant of what “Christianity” is. Thus, if people are no longer seeing the church building as a part of their life, they are no longer learning about the faith and its praxis, we should not be surprised to see figures suggesting that Christianity is in decline in Europe. It is! I’m not being alarmist. This is only one feature, in a much larger picture. I actually think that there are more “believers” out there than the statisticians have found. I think that what we are seeing is that the nature and expression of Christian practice are changing. People are relying on their online interactions more and more. People are avoiding or abandoning the scandal and infighting of the “institutional” churches. What we are seeing is an absence of “brand loyalty”. That is to say that people are not committing themselves to a particular “christian” identity. A Pew study a year or so ago showed that in the US even those who openly identify themselves as Christian are picking and choosing elements of praxis and belief from a variety of religious traditions, and spiritualities. The nature and expression of Christianity is changing.

Where do we Indie folk fit in this picture? Because Indie communities are less likely to be your stereotypical parish, it is safe to say that we are a feature of this change. However, I wonder, are we in a leadership role giving shape to the change, or are we merely following the path of least resistance to gain a few followers here and there? Are we allowing old models of “church” to die out, while thoughtfully examining and testing new ones? I believe we should be – the shape and nature of Indie communities is such that we have the creative advantage that could strengthen existing communities, and bear witness to the life and faithfulness of the OC/IC tradition. We need to be careful not to fall into the trap that so many of us witnessed in the late 80s and early 90s of reform or change, simply for the sake of change and reform. Change is adapting to new circumstances, it has substance and meaning. Change is not successful, it does not build up the community, when it is done on a whim of an individual, or a community.

Below are some of my ideas. They are not novel in themselves, but in a context, in our context I think that they can bring something useful to the table.

•        We live in a mobile society; people want to take it with them. I wonder if the decline in church membership is a product of our mobile society. Generally, we no longer live in the same geographic location for as long as we once did. You no sooner move to a place, settle into the life of a faith community and you move – again. I seem to recall once seeing a statistic that in the US people don’t stay in the same job for more than five  years on average. Jobs being a main cause of people moving from one place to another. It is easy to see how this can be disruptive, it is no wonder that many people have turned to less stationary sources for spiritual growth and communion. Our increased ability to be, and remain interconnected, wherever we are through such things as social networking, the internet, mobile phones, video phones (e.g. SKYPE), allows us to participate in an active, engaged community scattered over a wide geographic region, that may only meet in a given place quarterly, or once a month. Outside of that physical meeting however, the conversation, and the relationships within the community continue wherever individual members might be in real time. This reality – and it is already a nebulous reality in the Indie community, may mean that we develop further adaptations consciously managing issues related to this new way of being in communion, being church. For example, we might find it necessary to continue the oft maligned practice of ordaining more people than is traditionally deemed necessary – if it means that an increasingly mobile membership can easily “take it with them”, sharing with others the OC/IC tradition, introducing them to our expression of sacramental Christianity. This would mean however, that we have a much needed conversation within the movement about ordination, what it means, how it works. It also means that we will need to take serious steps to reign in the abuse of the office, laying out broad principles of quality control, that heretofore have not existed in any real or consistent manner.
•        Who are you? A lack of understanding or knowledge about the basic shape of Christianity is certainly a contributing factor to the notion that the faith is in decline. “They devoted themselves to the teaching of the Apostles. . .” Luke’s idealised image of the post-Ascension community in Jerusalem is not pure myth. Surveys have shown that a congregation that has a clear understanding of who they are and what they are about thrives. This is not to say that Indie communities ought to take on the Fundamentalist perspective of everything is a black and white choice. We are after all sacramental Christians and that means we are those who revel in the grey. We stand in the tension between black and white, and celebrate it. Can you put your finger on a few lines to give a total stranger an idea of what Indie Catholicism is? Indie communities tend to “assume” a knowledge of sacramental christianity, of the historical OC/IC ethos, and “Christian culture”. I think that this is a mistake – we are missing an opportunity here to not only empower and breathe new life into our existing communities, but to reach out to nones. We need to have the conversation about our core identity from one bishop to the next, one community to the next. More importantly however is the very real need to empower individuals within the community to own that identity and put it into action. Only then will we find our communities adapting well to new circumstances, weathering trials, and flourishing.
•         Make resources, and make them accessible. Home grown Indie resources (such as this, this, this, this, and this) designed for individual and communal use are sorely lacking. Just as we “assume” an understanding of Christian ideas and culture, we tend to “borrow” (or continue to use) the resources of other churches without adapting them to a new situation, a new setting – an Indie OC/IC setting. If we are to see stronger communities within the movement, people need to have access to clear useful resources. Prayerbooks are one of the most popular Apps for phones and tablets. Books, blogs, and pamphlets covering a wide variety of topics of theology and praxis from an Indie perspective not only aide existing members in their participation in the community, but they can also be an effective way to reach out to new people. People may not necessarily participate in a specific community, but they are seeking moments of solitude, reflection, engagement, nourishment. I have on more than one occasion heard someone describe their path to conversion from one tradition to another. A common thread through them all is how reading one book, one essay, hearing a talk, or watching a video or documentary inaugurated the process. I have met many others who, while never setting foot in a church, regularly read or view resources from a particular set of writers, artists, creatives within a given tradition. These resources feed their hunger for spirituality and engagement with God. Who is my neighbour – the one I will never know.
•        Its all about “attitude”. A group’s attitude colours everything they do. Indie communities have a number of historic attitude challenges, for example some communities are reactionary, others look to the idealised past, rather than the now, and the future, still others emphasise a particular issue almost to the exclusion of all others. I have discussed these and other elements of OC/IC communal life throughout the blog. A community’s attitude can have the effect of narrowing its ability to adapt to the changing landscape. Attitude can greatly strengthen the community’s ability to adapt, develop, and grow – not just in terms of numbers of members, but more importantly, in terms of its engagement with the active life of a sacramental believer. What is the overarching attitude of your local community? What is the tone, the approach to change, and issues of bishops, clergy, and laity in your community? Is the boundary set too close, or is there plenty of room to expand into the unknown, the unexpected?
•        Be visible. There are no accurate numbers on the size of the Indie community. One reason for this is that it is difficult to create a clear “category” for OC/IC ISM and “other related, but not related” groups. The reasons are relatively unimportant, however, it does mean that we have no idea if the tradition is growing, declining, or static. Nor do we know more nuanced demographic data such as the age range, the continuity of Indie adherence within families etc. This lack of statistics says a great deal about the nature of Indie Catholicism, and how we are perceived by outsiders. It means that if we are to be, or continue to be leaders of adapting to the modern sacramental Christian landscape, we must actively seek to engage, befriend and learn from one another. Moreover, those conversations held in appropriate forums can expose nones and others to the living OC/IC tradition, challenging or dismantling historic stereotypes some have about OC/IC communities.

My list is not about “getting bums on seats”. It is about a much needed conversation about how Indie communities can and in some cases are already adapting to the changing expression of sacramental Christianity we see around us. I think it is better that we use the existing shape of OC/IC communities to be proactive, to lead, rather than to follow (or struggle to keep pace). I believe that any adaptation we undertake ought to focus solely on strengthening existing communities, and empowering Indie believers. Growth in any given community is perhaps a beneficial by-product, but faithfulness is the first objective.

We live in a world of noise. We are surrounded by noise created, projected by others. We make and project our own noise. Years ago, when the Walkman was the iPod of the moment, I had an anthropology professor who talked about wanting to do a study on the effect of the Walkman. He wondered out loud if the increasingly pervasive presence of earphones would have an effect on how people related to one another. Our Christian tradition is all about relating – relating to God, and relating to one another as icons of God. We are surrounded by noise, and we envelop ourselves with noise of our own choosing. What does it say about our individual willingness to participate in communion with one another?

Music, and by this I mean generally other peoples’ music, has become an invasive wall of noise here in the UK. It falls into two categories. The first is public music, the second is pseudo-private music. It is rare to go into a shop, cafe or restaurant and not be bombarded with loud music. This is public music is intended to suggest a mood, or an atmosphere in the establishment. When done well it really does accomplish the task, and can be mildly enjoyable. Often it is not done well, and simply becomes another layer of unpleasant noise. Pseudo-private music is the noise generated by individuals wearing (or not wearing) ear phones. Their music is meant to be private, but often is blasting at a level that allows everyone in the same train carriage to sing along. And it is this phenomenon that attracts my attention. Pseudo-private music is a statement by the user to everyone else. “I’m in my own world,” it says, “stay away, you do not exist here!”

When Moses met God on Sinai he passed through tremor, cloud, and smoke, and spoke to God as “one man speaks to another”. Elijah stood at the entrance of a cave and waited to experience the true presence of God. Wind, crushing rocks, earthquake, fire, none of these elemental phenomena was God. But when he heard the quiet whisper, Elijah knew he was in the real presence of God. Both of these are manifestations of God – that is, they are “theophanies”. In each an individual penetrated the barriers between God and man, in order to relate to God “as one man speaks to another”. The feast of Theophany is different. It is a celebration not just of the manifestation of the Trinity, but also of the elimination of barriers between God and Man. Not just for particular individuals, but for all baptised people.

The noise we make, and surround ourselves with; the noise we create to get attention, or even to deflect attention away from ourselves is a cloak, a barrier. The noise is not me, it is not who I am. What constitutes “me” is hidden underneath the layers of noise. Just as what constitutes you is hidden, underneath your layers of noise. Or more often – behind the ear phones. As practising Christians however, we are challenged by the example of God – to do away with the barriers, to be prepared to relate with openness to “the other” who, like us, is an icon of the Incarnate Logos. If we are to speak of communion with one another, and with God, then we must do so understanding that it means dropping our cloak of safety, allowing others to see the real person while we actively penetrate their barriers and speak to them as one man speaks to another: as friends of God.

What is “culture”? The dictionary definition describes it as “customs, institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people or group”. I have always tended to understand “culture” more along national or ethnic lines more than anything else. I don’t think I have ever consciously considered the idea of religious culture – even though, as any regular reader of this blog will no doubt observe – I do go on about it quite a bit!

I have encountered some media recently that has made be sit and be more conscious about this idea of religious culture. What strikes me about the reports I’ve seen is how the lines are notably blurred between “national”, “ethnic” culture and “religious” culture. It so happens that my religious and ethnic “cultures” overlap quite nicely. This of course is both an accident of history, and personal choice. But what about someone who has chosen a religious culture that is essentially alien to his or her ethnic culture? How are they affected? How do they adapt?

This is a very important question when you consider people who have converted to, or who are participating in, Independent Catholic communities. It is easy to see how people and communities do or do not adapt to this apparent disjunct of cultures.

Al Jazeera has produced a three part series exploring the impact of immigration on French Muslims. It recounts the journey from North Africa, first as economic migrants, then as settled families, and now as “fully” French. The question asked in the piece: “What challenges have generations of Muslim immigrants in France been facing to retain their cultural identity?” What strikes me here is that the “Muslim culture” from the various former French colonies would presumably differ from region to region – so is it possible to describe “Muslim culture” in this sense without first qualifying it as Algerian Muslim, Lebanese Muslim, Egyptian Muslim etc.?

Here in Britain we are starting to see the description “British Muslim”, I’ve not done a search yet but wonder is there a parallel description in France? Does this mean that there is a uniquely British Muslim culture emerging from the mix of Pakistani, Indian, Bangladeshi, Egyptian, Malaysian Muslim cultures? What does that look like? What is the effect of converts – for there are converts either purely through personal conviction, or marriage – on such a development?

The Al Jazeera piece also mentions – almost in passing – those from immigrant families who have “quietly renounced Islam”. Presumably they have done this to better assimilate into the national culture of France and Western Europe? Does this imply that their link to their families traditional culture and religion was an impediment, an embarrassment? Or can it be said that this is a natural progression of assimilation?

For this last point at least, I can look at a simple, but tell tale example in my own family. Slovak custom is that you do not put up the Christmas tree before Christmas Eve. An American custom, particularly in the South, is that you put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Some of my extended family, now living in the American South, no longer wait until Christmas Eve (which they certainly did just over 20 years ago), but now put their tree up the day after Thanksgiving. The question is why? Is it purely assimilation? Partially yes – I once asked. It turns out they no longer remember what the “old” custom was, or what it meant. They therefore, simply do what everyone else does. Yet the “old” custom is not so old so as to be “forgotten” – my grandparents and great grandparents did it and they only died within the last decade, but it does seem that this custom has not been passed on to my younger relatives, so they have no knowledge of it. This simple custom is dead in that branch of the family in less than a generation.

It seems to me that as the original immigrants die, and families spread out in the new land. The communal aspect of these customs looses its meaning, because the community that practiced it no longer exists as it once did. This means that abandoning the old ways, is grounded in the process of naturalising in a new setting. If you are the only Slovak family on the block it will stand out that you don’t have your tree up yet. If you are the only Muslim in the village, it can be pretty damn lonely!

What the Al Jazeera piece does not specify, is of those who it says have quietly renounced Islam, how many have converted, at least nominally, to Roman Catholicism? How many have abandoned religion entirely – as cultural baggage they are attempting to leave behind?

A series of Israeli government ads (albeit rather crassly) addresses the challenges of living outside the context of a particular culture in this case both national-ethnic and religious. The ad that grabbed my attention shows an American Jewish family skyping grandparents in Israel. The grandparents are seated with a lit menorah prominently seen in the background. The grandmother asks the little girl, what is the holiday being celebrated. She grins and blurts out “Christmas!” To the obvious discomfort of all four adults.

Jeffrey Goldberg of the Atlantic writes:“These government-sponsored ads suggest that it is impossible for Jews to remain Jewish in America. How else are we supposed to understand the “Christmas” ad? Obviously, assimilation and intermarriage are issues in America in ways they aren’t in Israel. Israel has other problems of course, such as the fact that many of its rabbis act like Iranian mullahs. . . .The idea, communicated in these ads [is] that America is no place for a proper Jew, and that a Jew who is concerned about the Jewish future should live in Israel. . . .”

Here in the UK there is a small (I think it is safe to say microscopic) but vocal minority of Muslims seeking to turn the UK into a new Khalifate. Is this because as a minority religion in an historically Christian kingdom these voices feel intensely the challenge of living outside one’s historic cultural context? Do these groups, like the Israeli government believe that it is difficult, if not impossible to maintain their religious identity and practice outside the context of a Muslim theocracy?

These are two examples (Judaism and Islam) that are relatively easy to talk about the challenges. What about a Christian minority community present in the land of another Christian majority? Here of course we are bringing these ideas close to home – because lets face it, as many Indie folk that are out there, we are still, and I suspect always will be a minority (I should point out that this does not bother me at all, it is simply a fact). Here the challenges, and changes are not as easy to detect. So what effect do they have? Can we talk about the negative effects? Are we even aware of them?

We can also talk about how within the majority community – and here I can use British Anglicans as an example, or perhaps more widely British Christians – there are challenges to and pressures on the received understanding of religious cultural identity. If we look at the responses to controversies caused by an increasing pressure on the wider society for Christianity to accept lesbian and gay marriage, and ordinations. The response from the right (i.e. the socially and institutionally conservative) is that such a shift in religious praxis would undermine cultural and social cohesion. This is clearly a challenge not to an immigrant population, but to the native population that is consciously or unconsciously worried to protect its cultural identity – in this case its “Christian” cultural identity.

What we have not talked about here is how these communities define and understand their religious culture. Why for example do Israeli authorities responsible for the “Christmas ad” believe that one can only be a proper Jew living in Israel? What is it about the veil that offends the sensibilities of being French, resulting in its public ban earlier this year? What is so challenging about living in a western liberal democracy that is so challenging to Muslim belief and practice, that leads some to call for a Khalifate take over in the UK? Similarly what terrifies nominally Christian conservatives in the US so, that a number of states have officially banned Sharia law when there has never been a campaign to institute it in the first place? These examples are not about “fear” (though for sure they are a little bit) rather they are expressions of how various groups majorities and minorities understand the make up of, and challenges to their religious culture.

So, can we talk about an Indie religious culture, and if so what is it? I think that as we move further away from the consolidation of “independent catholicism” in the late 19^th century, it is becoming increasingly difficult to talk about one Indie religious culture. Rather I think we need to see the movement (and here again I now wonder if this too ought to be plural: movements) as streams of different OC/IC and yes, ISM cultures. To do otherwise would simply do one’s head in they have in the past forty years alone exploded into a convoluted interwoven tangle.

Are we as a minority group within the Christian tradition so overwhelmed by the praxis of those around us that he can do little more than assimilate? This is a question that has bothered me for some time. Because I’ve seen the assimilation happen. When I say assimilate I should clarify, I mean to have the look and feel of the surrounding Christian group. So here in the UK it is not uncommon to see indie groups following Anglican or Roman Catholic custom and practice. To do otherwise is seen as suicidal. I was once chastised by a then member of the community, that my liturgical practice was not in keeping with what Anglicans would approve of! That’s nice, I replied, given that we are not Anglicans! It is a challenge to be authentically indie when all everyone sees, and most know is the custom and practice of a larger, stronger, Christian tradition surrounding your community. However, I believe that there is a lost opportunity for development within an authentic Indie context if we get lazy and merely “assimilate”.

We cannot overlook the fact that just as some in France (and I suspect too here in England) are quietly forsaking the religion of their immigrant families in order to feel better connected with French society, it is true that the Indie community looses many great thinkers, artists, and faithful members every year because of the pressures of being a minority, an “outsider”. Especially when it is entirely possible to simply attend, or join a church that has the same liturgical practice, and communal life and customs as the indie community one once enjoyed. Here the question becomes – what is our reason for being? What makes us different, especially now that the issues that brought the OC/IC movement into existence over a century ago, seem to no longer pose a challenge for modern believers.

Are we seeing new developments emerging in the OC/IC community, re-working and shaping our identity, our culture, and reason for being? I confess I don’t know that I have enough information to even begin answering this question. I have certainly seen shifts in my lifetime. Shifts away from predominately ethnic issues of Slovak, Polish, Belgian, and German. Shifts in the wider movement’s attitude toward authority. And more recently shifts in understanding what exactly qualifies as being OC/IC. These are all challenges. But I also like to think of them as opportunities for thoughtful committed Indie folk to develop and contribute to our “religious culture”.

Thinking about Indie religious culture, reflecting on the challenges and issues of other traditions, has given me more questions and answers. But I suspect that that is a good thing. It is good to be aware, to be conscious of what those things are that when set down together describe an OC/IC identity and practice. Twenty years ago I believed I understood what that was. Today . . . .I have many more questions than answers, and the challenges of being Indie in a culture that is overwhelmingly not, make some of those questions all the more interesting.

Those of you who also read along at Hour Of Scampering already know that for the past month I’ve been comitted to the 2011 NaNoWriMo. The challenge is to write a 50 thousand word piece of fiction. I vassilated about whether or not I would participate when I first discovered it. Which meant that when I jumped in, I was six days behind everyone else. I had to pump out over 8000 words AND meet the daily target.

You might think I’d be nuts to do this. And of course you are right. However, I had a mission, a point to prove (more to myself because no one would ever see my story). It was a real challenge, and a daunting one at first. I did think that I could not possibly catch up, then not suffer from burnout. I did catch up (by day 8 – a good day, a holy day ) and to my surprise I did not suffer burn out.

Burn out is an issue with any project – and of course in the context of one’s spiritual discipline, and practice it can be a real killer; especially in our Indie (OC IC ISM) context where sometimes the challenges of being Independent Catholic can be overwhelming.

How did I avoid burn out participating in NaNoWriMo? I think a key feature is that it is a time limited activity. I only had 30 days to finish the text (24 in my case). You might think that there can be no practical time limitation for spiritual discipline. We do however, have one; a very reliable, consistant one – the liturgical cycle. The cycle of feasts, fasts, and festivals provides any number of select time units that can be used to good effect for spiritual discipline. Consider the effect of Lent as just one example.

During Lent we refrain from eating certain foods, we are perhaps more conscious of prayer and liturgical worship, we are more conscientious about our activity in the community through acts of charity. During Lent we cram a great deal into this experience we call the spiritual life, spiritual discipline. It is a wonder that so many more believers don’t burn out during the month.

This is a nice lead in to the next point about not giving up during NaNoWriMo. My daily activity (my praxis if you will) was structured – it had distinct manageable units. Each day the goal was just under 2000 words. That sounds like a real challenge, but you would be surprised how much you can write in a few focused 20 minute stints. Trying to do it all, and trying to do it all at once, certainly would have resulted in burn out. Managing to break it down into reasonable, thoughtful segments that progressively add to the whole made visualising the goal of 50 thousand words less daunting, more possible.

These two things – along with a few new good habits, and reviving a few old good habits – made achieving 50 thousand words possible. But it also leaves me looking forward to participating again next time. And it leaves open the possibility of participating in other such programs with a different focus – weaving, drawing, or even exercise related. In essence a good practice, a good discipline does not exhaust you. It leaves you at the end of the journey looking forward to the next project, the next challenge. You want more, not less (or none at all as might be the case for burn out).

What a curious article over at Big Think! The gist of it is that there is a psychological component to physical cleanliness.

The examples are rather curious. Including one where as part of a study participants were asked to recall a personal immoral experience; as part of the session some were offered a cleansing wipe and the reason that it was part of the protocol for using the public computer, others were given nothing. Those that were given nothing volunteered to do yet more experiments/sessions; while those offered the wipe generally did not. If I’m “getting” the message right – the suggestion here is that those who recieved the wipes felt somehow “absolved” or “cleansed” from the immoral experience they were asked to recall.

Hmm . . .

When I come home after being out for the day the first thing I want to do is shower; or at least wash my hands. Why? Well for one thing it feels good. Ok, fine but lets set that “obvious” reason aside for the moment – why have I developed this . . . . “custom”? Not wanting to put too much meaning into it I find that it does shift my thinking – from “outside” things to “inside” or “home” things. I feel much more relaxed and ready to do new things at home once I’ve come in, had a shower and changed clothes. Thus, the shower or hand washing makes an almost unconscious break or dividing line between the two activities . . . Oh and it feels good!

So what does all this have to do with theology?

Well for starters reading the article made me start to think about baptism – and our perceptions about the nature and value of baptism. Obviously the studies point to ideas about washing and our sense of self, as well as our sense of – as they put it – morality and immorality.

That physical cleanliness (or filthiness) is closely linked to our perceptions of the moral, and the immoral. Thus when participants are shown an image of a dirty toilet – researchers found that they judged others more harshly than those who saw a clean room. This has me thinking about how we perceive and judge others simply by virtue of their physical appearance, or the appearance of their personal space. How this seemingly unconscious perception has a negative impact on how we relate to others.

I think therein lies the key – it is “unconscious” so being more conscious or aware of its negative impace on our thinking and perceptions might enable us to be more objective in our assessments?

If you’re not already a fan of Retronaut – I cannot recommend it to you enough – it is one of the most interesting, quirky sites on the net.

In a recent edition are these pictures of an abandoned church in Buffalo, looking through them I started “feeling” a sense of loss, mourning even, for the many individuals who contributed to the life of that place.

Then I started thinking about the two churches my own family were associated with – one Old Catholic, the other Roman – both now defunct.

Nothing we do is permanent – but it is rather unsettling to view a place with so much individual and collective “spirit” invested in it – even during your own lifetime – as you would a Roman temple, or Egyptian tomb.

Stepping away from the physical building for a moment I find I’m more interested in the loss of community, identity, and with it belonging. My grandmother lived through the change of her local parish church slowly shutting down, its community dissipating, people she’d sat with and visited in church for years no longer there – having had to find another parish – and there feeling like a stranger no doubt. She often commented on how she felt the loss, how sad it was, and how odd it felt.

Indie communities have an unfortunate tendancy to be highly fluid and very impermanent. It is perhaps one of the more difficult aspects of being active in the movement; you no sooner get settled in the life of a community when it shifts or dissipates.

I’m not merely talking about change – change is a natural part of life, and to think that it would not not also be reflected in our faith communities is naive (I guess this is perhaps one of the most effective arguments against “Traditionalists”?).

Some changes are more than that however, they quickly, dramatically alter the nature of a thing. The priest moves and the community dissipates because there is no replacement. A clique within the community “makes its move” and fractures the whole. A dispute with a bishop, or within the wider synod throws everything into chaos. Many of us in the movement have seen this, or lived through this at least once.

What if we were to reflect on the images of hollowed, empty, abandoned church buildings from a generation earlier and use these as a point of reference?

Consider how people, individuals and groups, invested their time, creative talent, hard earned money, and most importantly their spiritual activity and alliance in making this “place” (community) their spiritual home.This community was an integral part of their personal and collective identity. This community was an expression of their faith and devotion. These are only a few of the points we might reflect on.

Now put it in the context of our own Indie setting. For most of us the “building” can be little more than a metaphore – an “icon” if you will – drawing our conscious thinking to bear on our actions. If we kept in our mind’s eye the most haunting shadow of a former community – such as one of the images in this photo essay – asking some of these questions not only of ourselves, but those within whom we have each invested our own time, talent, and relational energy – would we then find that we have more creative ways to overcome the challenges of the historic fluidity and impermanence of our Indie communities?

The spirit of a place, the shadow of the soul of the community that called it home, can I believe be a moving “icon” for Indie folk seeking to invest in their long-term relationship with one another, and within the tradition.

“Don’t you think that Jesus is the solution to the problems in the Middle East – that it is only through him that peace will come to the region?”

This is a question posed to me by a door-to-door evangelist a few years ago. It is a question that irritated me at the time, and has remained with me ever since. It is a question, which to my mind, cuts to the very heart of our theology of the incarnation, our role in it, and how we have somehow, over time, surrendered that role.

We Christians describe the person of Christ as “God and Man”, “God with us”. The Patristic writers describe the process of the incarnation as one that required the cooperation both of God and of Man. At the very core of our understanding of the nature and mechanics of the incarnation is the idea that we humans had a function and a responsibility in the process of redemption, and the outcome of salvation. But somewhere along the way – I’m not sure where – we surrendered our active role in this very important process and became passive observers, fatalists. If God wills it, it will happen.

There is another problem with this all too pervasive model – Christianity focuses on the relationship between God and man, and in the context of our sacramental Christian tradition, the relationships shared between people. So if we have surrendered our role and function – our responsibility – in the ongoing process of realising the fullness of salvation, then this essential relationship is broken. That should be a very uncomfortable realisation for all of us.

A consequence of the broken relationship is that the “conversation” is over and all that is left is to obey, or to become a meek, hopeful supplicant. Since many who have joined or converted to the Independent Catholic life, did so in part because they rebelled against “un-thinking Christianity”. That is to be “told” to accept and obey the teachings and decisions from the hierarchy without question – wondering if there might not be a better way to conceptualise, even realise the significance of the idea within the life of the community.

In this broken model there are no active believers, no “Christians” there are only followers, numbers, bums on seats passively absorbing the dictums of an “elect” few. Here, it is easy to see how our broken relationship with God has seeped into our relationships with our “community” and its constituents. With this model – all catholicity is lost because only the hierarchy is in a position to actually do anything. The fullness of the “body of Christ” is not realised – the talents and effort of each constituent member goes uncultivated, uninvited.

The grace of baptism is the gift of empowerment to be participants in the conversation, to initiate creative theology and praxis, to relate both to God (who through the incarnation underwent the most extraordinary expression of his desire to be in relation with us) and one another. In our OC/IC context we are blessed with small communities, and if you’re lucky a decentralised hierarchy where the bishop is a teacher, a guide, a fellow sojourner, one who points the way and serves as a point of reference and unity rather than a “monarch” or “magestrate”. This ecclesiology allows for the community to develop a voice in conversation, and to become a voice in the greater conversation with God. When everyone in the community can sit down at table, share a meal, and explore an issue – be creatively engaged with our theology and come out at the other end with a renewed sense of praxis – then we are active Christians faithful to our underlying belief in the incarnation.

My response to the poor evangelist standing at my door was to point out that no, we humans are responsible for the suffering in the Middle East because we have surrendered our baptismal role in working together, and with God to bring about a fair and just resolution. I’m afraid they went away surprised that someone would talk with them – and  perhaps regretting it.

I’ve been watching and reading with a mixture of fascination, pity, and even horror the various stories coming out of the US about the group predicting the arrival of the apocalypse on 21 May.

Millenarian movements are fascinating, not new, and not limited to fringe Protestant groups – there was a serious millenarian movement in the early Middle Ages for example.

Modern examples include the Jehovah’s Witnesses who until recently predicted the end was nigh on more than one occasion – resulting in the recall of literature, and a collective moment of “oops” before finding some reason why they mis-calculated.

I’ve never heard of an Independent Catholic community developing a millenarian theology – have you?

Jesus said that nobody knows the hour but God alone – and a good thing too because lets face it from some of the reports and interviews I’ve been seeing of true believers in next week’s end of the world event – it is the source of a great deal of mental and emotional anquish. The point about the story is to encourage individual believers, and communities of faith to live – to really and truly live as if this moment is the very last moment you’ll have. It presses upon us the impetus to live thoughtfully, faithfully, and fully engaged.

Thinking about those groups and individuals promoting Millenarian ideas leads me to another question – does artificially creating mental and emotional distress not fall into the category of creating a stumbling block for people’s faith? I think it does. It certainly is the cause of suffering – and since Christ teaches us to end the suffering of others I would suggest that Millenarian groups, and their promoters are . . . well . . . sinful.